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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625145">Dissimilarity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeComa/pseuds/CoffeeComa'>CoffeeComa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream Journal [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Violence, Ambiguous Relationships, Blood, Fantasy, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Scars, Slipstream - Freeform, Smoking, Stream of Consciousness, This will make sense after the other dreams are published, Trans Male Character, dream - Freeform, non-linear timeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:53:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeComa/pseuds/CoffeeComa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Misaki and Makoto talk about the events that took place at that party.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character(s) &amp; Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream Journal [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dissimilarity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story takes place directly after "Call To The Void" and is loosely based on the dream I had after the one that inspired "Call To The Void". I added a few more scenes to this story, removed the awkward incestuous parts, and tied it together while also keeping the original elements to the actual dream. Because this dream occurred first and because my dreams are non-linear, the next stories that'll feature these two will have them at different times, ages, etc. While Misaki is around 20 here and Makoto is around his 30s, there will be other stories where that isn't the case. This is just how the other dimension — the one in which I dream in often — is non-linear. </p><p>I hope you enjoy this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Needles prodded and poked through my skin and threads followed, gracing my wounds as beads of red shyly surfaced, threatening to spill over. Suprisingly, there was no pain. </p><p> </p><p>She had her pink hair tied back and a determined look on her face as she carefully maneuvered the stitches from a distance, never touching me.</p><p> </p><p>She was so familiar, yet so different from when I first saw her in this stage of life. Her baggy eyes held even more weight with dark circles that rivaled mine. Her skin was paler than it was before, impalement scars scattered along with a cut from her cheekbone to her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Her hands slightly shook as she handled the strange phone-like device. With each tap, another stitch was added.</p><p> </p><p>"Misaki."</p><p> </p><p>She looked up at me, ceasing her tapping and swiping on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>That's when I saw it.</p><p> </p><p>"How much do you remember?"</p><p> </p><p>She grimaced, her slightly crooked teeth showing, and shook her head. "I remember enough."</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes, once bursting with life and curiosity, were dull and apprehensive. Through swirls of brown and black, I could see it — the pain, the resentment, the fear. Though, there was something omitted. Something unreadable through everything she <em> chose </em>to show.</p><p> </p><p>A cold, slimy feeling shocked me out of my thoughts. There was a slight hint of amusement in those eyes. "It's just ointment," she snorted. Then, with a pained sigh, she whispered, "I wish you'd stop hurting yourself."</p><p> </p><p>I hummed and we fell back into silence.</p><p> </p><p>Gauze wrapped around my arm shortly afterwards. The metal of her prosthetic hand slid across the screen of the device and her eyes fell back into concentration.</p><p> </p><p>"Done."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>I leaned against the counter of the kitchen island, resting my head in my hands and my elbows on the white marble. I took a glance at the staircase right across from the cramped space, wondering just how many people lived here.</p><p> </p><p>I turned to the refrigerator, observing the photos scattered around the steel doors. </p><p> </p><p>Some of those were of a handsome young man. He was probably around Misaki's age, redheaded, buff, and had a huge grin on his bearded face that obscured his eyes. There was another person in the dark picture, but they were blurred.</p><p> </p><p>Others were of Misaki as a young teen, smiling and laughing with some other children, including the redhead. They were dressed in school uniforms and had thorns in their hair.</p><p> </p><p>My eyes rested back to her as she sat idly at the island and fiddling with a phone. </p><p> </p><p>She must've caught me staring because she looked up and said, "Everything will make sense soon."</p><p> </p><p>I didn't dare question her, especially not when her eyes revealed something so painful, it made my heart physically ache.</p><p> </p><p>Never could anyone consider me empathetic, but something about her made me feel awful in the most painful way. It was as if I was eternally impaled. The glass was in my hands, my arms, in my throat, slicing through everything and draining the warmth from my body.</p><p> </p><p>It was worse than the pain of getting my soul snatched from its vessel. It was a pain that couldn't be felt naturally, normally, and yet, I was experiencing it just looking at her.</p><p> </p><p>"Tadaima!" </p><p> </p><p>It was the man in the pictures. He carried a large paper bag in one hand and a pack of beer with an unreadable script scribbled on the box in the other. His smile split from cauliflower ear to ear, showing off ragged teeth with some missing. His eyes, more akin to actual emeralds, shone in the light from the kitchen. He seemed to be oblivious to the tension and maybe that was a good thing.</p><p> </p><p>Even with such a beaming grin and kind, innocent eyes, the man wasn't able to melt that cold feeling away.</p><p> </p><p>"Okaeri," both Misaki and I greeted, too synchronised for comfort.</p><p> </p><p>He laid the bag and beer down on the island and sat on one of the stools. He started pulling out vegetables, some I didn't recognise, and some meats covered with an opaque black material that stretched around them like spandex.</p><p> </p><p>"I went to Chiyoete and got some things," he simply said in his thick General American accent, still smiling. "I'm going to cook tonight, Saki." She nodded, looking a bit relieved at that. He turned to me and his smile became more broad. "Makomako, you're finally home!"</p><p> </p><p>I nodded with what I hoped looked like a polite smile. He just chuckled it off and gave me a hug across the island. "I take that it was a painful mission?" How was I supposed to respond to that? It wasn't a simple answer to the craziness I went through on my missions, especially not the last one.</p><p> </p><p>He hummed and lifted himself from the stool. The beefy man walked over to the cabinets and pulled out a pot and a few pans, seemingly unbothered by the "hehehe" sound that they made every time he opened them.</p><p> </p><p>"Seems familiar, doesn't it?" It was biting. Bitter, even. It stung, but the tension was cut when the man suddenly giggled. "Don't bully him, Saki." She laughed too, short and choppy.</p><p> </p><p>As the bubbly male prepared to cook, Misaki pulled me into the backyard. I couldn't get so much as a glimpse of the spacious living room as I lagged behind her speed. My brain was stuck in the kitchen while my soul slowly caught up to the body standing idly in front of a huge empty pool, deep and intimidating. The autumn breeze washed upon that useless meat bag, pulling everything else inside painfully.</p><p> </p><p>When I blinked, I was there. Misaki was beside me. The living room was behind us, but I couldn't turn my head to see it.</p><p> </p><p>"You should stop trying so desperately to find… Whatever it is you're looking for."</p><p> </p><p>I blinked up at her, but her eyes stared to the horizon. The stubborn trees obscured the setting sun, but those rays defiantly peeked through, highlighting the scars that peppered her face like freckles. </p><p> </p><p>A neon blue cigarette dangled loosely from her lips and her thick brows were furrowed. She was a spitting image of me — a more youthful me — along with those bad habits. I suspected we shared something more in common than just surface level vices and looks, but I wasn’t going to press her on it.</p><p> </p><p>I'd find out later. I was sure of it.</p><p> </p><p>The smell of cloves and cinnamon hit me first. Wisps of smoke waved around, enveloping us in a pleasant heat. </p><p> </p><p>Though, it couldn’t melt that cold, heavy tension thick in the air and inside of me.</p><p> </p><p>"This world is so much better than mine," I started slowly. I didn't know how to go about explaining where I came from without going on a tangent. "There's no money, no leaders — nothing. Everything is made for everyone. Everyone works for each other and society has progressed so much. No hatred, no issues with others' identities…"</p><p> </p><p>She stared at me with caution, but didn't say anything. I couldn't tell what was going through that mind of hers. If she was mine, that brain was racing with many thoughts and unanswerable questions. "I've been to multiple places. I've died so many times. I've loved and lost in each dimension, but I fight to keep this place as it is."</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrow quirked and she let out a shaky exhale. "Why?"</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"I… I like it here. It's better than anywhere I've been and I think I'll find what I have been searching for this time." </p><p> </p><p>The sun's gone down and two moons rise in its place. The wind was picking up the leaves and chilling my bones. I didn't miss Misaki's shudder, either. </p><p> </p><p>She spit the cigarette off to the side and let it disintegrate. Her scarred hand reached for another, not paying much attention to the carton. Her other hand flicked fire from its metallic finger. It wasn't anything big, but it was impressive nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>She caught me staring once more and offered a cigarette with her flesh hand, holding it out for my lips to curve around it. Seeing her reaching out towards me again with an unreadable look on her face that wasn't there the first time made my heart burst.</p><p> </p><p>I didn't realise I was crying until teardrops ran down her deformed fingers.</p><p> </p><p>I gently pulled the cigarette from her hand with my teeth, clenching it and looking up at her. I felt pathetic, seeing her like this and being this vulnerable in front of my saviour.</p><p> </p><p>A saviour that I have hurt so many times before.</p><p> </p><p>The flame kissed the tip of the cigarette, its warmth tickling my lips and cheeks. It was a dangerous game it played. The burning stick was short enough for it to burn me, but as with everything, Misaki handled it in the end.</p><p> </p><p>The taste hit my tongue, bitter and spicy with the earthy undertone of dried clove. It wasn't as bad as it could've been. It was certainly better than the cigarettes from my dimension.</p><p> </p><p>I sucked the smoke into my lungs, letting it linger and coat my insides with its tar. At the same time, Misaki was exhaling it.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," was all I could mutter after a while. I didn’t dare look at her expression. Instead, I watched the moons slowly peek through the top of the trees, staring down as if to judge <em> me. </em>Their orange hue radiated a menacing aura that the other dimension’s moon never quite achieved.</p><p> </p><p>She hissed and let out an exasperated exhale. My head snapped to her direction. "Do you know what I said to myself back there? At that party?" </p><p> </p><p>I shook my head. </p><p> </p><p>"When I saw you, I said, 'he's finally back!' I couldn't let you go again, not when I haven't seen you in so long."</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, fluffy curls coming undone from the rubber band. "When you ran off, I thought 'he's leaving me again?!' But, it wasn't true. Thank the universe."</p><p> </p><p>I must've missed something. I couldn't remember that girl except from that strange party and that was a mission. Though she seemed awfully familiar before, I couldn’t quite place my trust in my own intuition or memory. The dimension’s timelines were so vastly different from mine, too. There’s no way I could remember her that well.</p><p> </p><p>"M-Misaki…" I looked at her with steady eyes and sniffed away newly forming tears. "What are we?"</p><p> </p><p>A burning pain shocked me and before she could even speak, I spat out the rest of the cigarette. When I looked back, her back was turned away from me and she was walking towards the huge double doors to the living room.</p><p> </p><p>I felt myself begging for her to wait, but I couldn't hear my own voice. My ears rang and my throat was stuffed with cotton wool. Tears blurred my vision once more and all I could make out were the tiny lights that traced around the interior of the windows and doors, tangled in vines. </p><p> </p><p>Her figure disappeared from view, but my legs chased after her. Though I was unable to hear, speak, or see, my legs acted as my guide, running after her. One foot in front of the other without much thought, without any tripping or tumbling, I managed to get inside.</p><p> </p><p>When I came to, the redheaded angel of a man gently smiled at me and ushered me to the peeling white leather couch. A sense of deja vu ran over me, but I dismissed it.</p><p> </p><p>Misaki sat down next to him, ignoring my pitiful staring and drinking that strangely named beer, staring absently at the TV with her brows knitted together. The smell of carrots, onions, and turkey was strong and my stomach growled. Thankfully, the man gave me a small wooden bowl full of hot soup without any words.</p><p> </p><p>I thanked him and muttered "itadakimasu" mostly to myself, causing a small giggle from the guy. </p><p> </p><p>To say the food was good would be an understatement, but even the warm meal couldn't melt that coldness away.</p><p> </p><p>We sat on the couch, leaning on one another. Misaki's scowl was long gone, replaced with a longing gaze. The buzz from the beer got to us all — if the blush was any indication — but the tension didn't cease.</p><p> </p><p>A game show played on the small television, but neither of us paid much attention to it. The language was one so familiar yet unique to anything in my dimension and the symbols were the same as those I saw on that beer case. </p><p> </p><p>I'd learn it later, just as I'd learn who Misaki really was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. If you have any questions, concerns, or anything at all, please do not hesitate to leave a comment (or multiple). I will try my best to respond. If you enjoyed this and want more, leave kudos. It encourages me to write more. :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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